


Angles and curves

by melissa_42



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-11
Updated: 2011-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissa_42/pseuds/melissa_42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gokudera suddenly feels inadequate now that she knows what Yamamoto looks like under her clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angles and curves

Gokudera doesn’t know what exactly she had been expecting, but surely not this--this map of soft, soft skin and gently dipping curves. In her defense Yamamoto could have been hiding anything under her baggy T-shirts and boy-jeans. She could have been--should have been--all flat planes and thin hips and mosquito bite breasts, peppered by scars and bruises from her usual horseplay. It would have made so much more sense to Gokudera, who cataloged the people around her for easy reference: girly-girls wear bows, have hourglass figures, and must be treated like good China; tomboys wear baseball caps, look like the boys they play with, and have the emotional capacity of a tree stump. Clothed, she could slap and punch Yamamoto without a second thought because Yamamoto was dumb and could take it, but now...

Yamamoto smiles sweetly at Gokudera like she’s not in the process pulling her sports bra over her head to let her pale breasts fall free.

“You can touch them, if you want,” she offers, just a little confused at the change between the Gokudera who was kissing bruises into her lips just moments before and this Gokudera, who suddenly looks like a lost child. When the other girl makes no move, she steps into her personal space, stroking calloused hands across Gokudera’s ribs and around her back to fiddle with the clasp of her ratty bra. She presses a kiss to Gokudera’s ear and undoes the hooks when the girl does not push her away. 

As the straps slide down Gokudera’s bony shoulders, she finally shies away from Yamamoto and folds her arms over her too flat chest. It’s not supposed to be like this, she thinks bitterly, ignoring Yamamoto’s cocked head and sweetly questioning eyes. Yamamoto’s not supposed to look like that; she’s supposed to be scrawny and boyish like Gokudera, and it’s not supposed to matter because there will be nothing to compare, nothing to make Gokudera feel inadequate next to Yamamoto’s naked body. Only her pride stops her from pulling her shirt back on and scrambling out of the room in shame.

She yelps out of her stupor when Yamamoto crouches down to kiss the marred, pink skin in the non-existent valley between her breasts before stroking the spot with the tip of her tongue. Abandoning her modesty, Gokudera digs her fingers into Yamamoto’s thick locks and pulls her away.

“I like it,” Yamamoto explains before Gokudera has a chance to growl,  _what the hell_  or  _cut it out_. “It’s cute.”

Gokudera doesn’t ask how a burn scar can be cute, but she does try to protest, words that are torn from her mouth by Yamamoto’s tongue against her again, this time circling around her left areola. The touch make her feel warm and light headed, and she hardly notices when Yamamoto, on her knees, backs her up to the bed behind them. They flop down unceremoniously, a tangle of limbs and breath, before Yamamoto crawls closer and rubs her own breasts against Gokudera’s. She mouths at the studs in Gokudera’s ear and pets her cheeks and nose, murmuring “it’s cute, you’re so cute” like a mantra, like it’s actually true.

And then their thighs fit together  _just so_  and they are both left gasping and keening into each other’s skin, grinding and writhing and moaning and pleading and

Gokudera floats in the haze of afterglow, curled in against Yamamoto’s curves like she was made to fit there. She barely hears the soft professions Yamamoto mumbles into her ear, but the message gets through just fine, and she almost believes that Yamamoto thinks her lines and angles are just as beautiful as the other girl’s own curves and swells.


End file.
